Discover
by TheSaintRyan
Summary: ON HOLD // If you are my placebo, why can't I quit you? 'Ally ally oxen-free...'
1. If Only

If you are my placebo, why can't I quit you

NOTE: THIS STORY IS ON A SIGNIFICANT HOLD! I'm reworking chapters 1-4 or 5, building them up. I was reading over the story again while working on Chapter 7 (yes, I am still working on this story X.x) and I'm very unhappy with how short and empty most of the chapters are. So I'm reworking them and adding more, and until then I won't upload or work ahead any more. Sorry to all who are reading this and awaiting an update, it might be a while.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

_If you are my placebo, why can't I quit you? _

I write these words as I sit on his front porch in the chilled four 'o'clock AM air, holding my notebook close. There's no chance of sleep tonight, there never is- anymore.

_Not since what happened. _

My feelings for Tweek aren't real, I keep telling myself, like a placebo. Just like my feelings for the countless other people, men and women, I've slept with weren't real.  
But if it's not real where is reality?

_Where does reality start and my fake drugs, my make-believe feelings, end?_

I fear I may never know. I pull my orange hood tighter against my face, tying the strings quickly in a loose bow. It looks retarded, I know, but oh well. My pale blue eyes stare out at the sky, quickly lightening from the pitch black of a cloudy night to the dark blue of a cloudy morning.  
Things never get better, here.

I don't want to hurt him, I swear- and that's what worries me. The others, oh I could care less about them, but not Tweek. He's just so innocent, so confused. Should I feel bad about using him for my own pleasure, or am I even using him at all? I'm afraid I might actually be in love. Maybe it's because he didn't let me in, literally and figuratively, right away. I had to work. I had to prove to him that I could be trusted, that I had feelings towards him. That I...  
Oh god, Kenny, just say it.  
That I loved him.

None of the others were like this. Bebe, Wendy, the countless faceless nameless whores, Kyle, Clyde, Butters. With them it was a simple "Hi, I'd like to fuck you." and away we went. 

With them it was simple period.

So I sit out here, in this now early morning, the sky promises that it'll be morning soon, and I think. And think. And then I see a light shine down onto the yard, two windows down from the front door. Tweek's room.

_Ohgodohgodohgodohgod!_

He must have woken up without me, this isn't good. He must be panicking he must be-  
"Kenny?" says a sleepy voice from the window. I quietly walk over to it, and look in.  
"Oh! There you are! You scared me." He says.  
"I'm glad you're still here." He finishes.  
Oh god.  
"Yeh, I was just... thinking..." I reply.

That was stupid.  
"Oh. Well, d-do you want to come back in? It's mighty chilly out there." He says, how kind. Wait- did Tweek just stutter? Usually he doesn't around me... Oh well.  
"Uh, yeah sure." I say, before climbing though his window. Y'know, on second thought, I could have just used the front door, huh? He pulls me close for an embrace, and I return it. I like it when he holds me, he's always so warm.  
"Gee, Kenny, were you smoking again?" Tweek asks.

Damn, he caught me. Not that I even tried to hide it. I can only nod, the shame I feel is a real emotion, for once. "Darn it Kenny, well I thought you said you quit! I don't want you to die, Kenny." Why does he say my name so much? "I'm sorry, Squeeky... It's a hard habit to kick." Not that I even tried.

"Kenny, don't pull out the sweet nicknames and think you're out of trouble." Trouble? What is he, my mother? 

No. He isn't. Because Tweek is here. With me.

"Dammit I'm sorry!" I shout, before I realize I shouldn't have. He looks so hurt.  
"Sparky, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout!" At least this time I'm not lying to the poor kid. But the only things that I'm talking to are the tears in his eyes. Damn kid won't listen to a thing I say for the rest of the day.

"I think... Maybe you should go home now, Kenny." Ouch. I really didn't mean it.  
"I mean, before my parents wake up, and everything." I know I kno- wait, what? He's not mad? "Oh Tweek, I knew you weren't mad!" I say, before practically hugging the very life out of him. I don't leave before picking up the skinny boy and laying him back in his nice warm bed, and kissing his forehead softly.

"But dammit kid, you know that house ain't a home. Not to me, anyway." I reply, before heading back out the window.

He's asleep before I say those words.

If only everyone's life was that simple.


	2. Snow

So I do as Tweek said, I go to my house

So I do as Tweek said, I go to my house. NOT my home. My house. It's still really early, so no one is outside. I'm glad. The consequence is- It's cold. As. Fuck.  
You're probably thinking, good thing you have your trusty hoodie, right Kenny? Wrong. This hoodie is the same one from elementary school. Goddamn cheapskate dad. Wasting all our money on booze. I keep walking, but god it feels like I'm being followed.

Wait- What the hell was that?! I swear I just heard footsteps. Oh wait. Those are mine. Echo, silly Kenny. It's early, and cold, and there's nothing else to do except, think. So I do.

Oh god. Why do all my thoughts turn to him? I do not love.  
Kenneth James McCormick does NOT love.  
I. Do. Not. Love. Anyone.  
So why do I still think I love him?  
Hmmm... Kenneth James Tweak? Nope. Doesn't sound good. Sorry, folks, no winner here. Better luck with your next lover! I wonder if Tweek is really his first name...  
What if it's something boring like John?  
Hmmm...  
John Allan McCormick?  
Doesn't sound as bad. But then again, his name probably isn't John.  
I wonder what it i- Whatthefuck was that?! 

I quickly turn around, well, try to. However my little spin on the snow sends me plummeting on my ass. Nice. Oh god there is something! What is that? I realize too late, and am pounced upon by a cat.  
"Marshall!" I exclaim quietly. That's Tweek's cat. Marshall. He's a creamy white colour with pale orange stripes on his tail and face.  
"What are you doing out here?" I question tersely.

'Cause you're not crazy, McCormick- lecturing a cat.

I contemplate walking all the way back to the Tweak residence, but I'm too lazy and it's cold. So I pet the poor thing lightly, pat him on the head, and send him back. I continue on my merry way, and feel a lot less paranoid. Guess Marshall was the only thing following me, right? Wrong. Footsteps again, too random- and separate from mine to be an echo. I once again quickly turn, this time more knowledgeable, and don't fall. And guess who I see? Craig. Giving me the finger.

Niiiice. 

"Whatthefuck man! Coulda given me a heart attack!" I say into the night. He comes closer. "How long have you been following me?" I ask into the night.  
He comes closer, and says. "About since you were smoking on Tweek's porch." Is voice is calm. And here I was, expecting an 'I'm not!'

"Just what were you doing there so early, and why aren't you staying?" He questions. What is he, the cops?Here's my alibi- tell me what you think, I've been working on it all week. "Well, _Craig_. I was spending the night, but I started feeling sick. So I'm on my way home." Nice, huh?

"B-S," He says calmly. "I don't know what kind of slumber parties you've been to, but at mine we use the door- not the window." Oops, forgot about that.  
Okay, "So you caught me." I say. I wonder how much he knows?  
"How much do you know." I say bluntly. Never been one to beat around the bush, that silly Kenny. "About what?" He asks.

"… I think you know."  
"I do. Just know, Kenny, that I **don't** want him to get hurt. So don't be the one to do it, ok?"

"… I don't even know if we're together, to where I could hurt him. I don't know anything about our relationship. Craig I'm so confused!" I spill, before practically leaping at him and wrapping my arms around his lithe form. I never noticed, but he has such pretty eyes. Just calling them brown would be an injustice- they're distinctly milk-chocolate, with speckles of golden-brown. "Woah! K-Kenny I…" It doesn't matter what he was going to say, my sobs and tears cut him off.

"…"


	3. Home

He let me cry into him for a good ten minutes

He let me cry into him for a good ten minutes. His shoulder was now wet, and beginning to frost in the chilly mountain air. "Sorry." I mumbled. "It's fine… Do you... want to come back to my place. And talk?" He asked, the sentence broken up in its awkwardness. 

"Sure."

Craig's house was warm too, just like Tweek. Ugh, why do I always think about Tweek? We maneuvered our quiet way up into his bedroom on the third floor. Craig's parents were rich, not that you'd ever know without seeing his mansion- I mean house. I don't know why we bothered being quiet. We could clearly hear the sounds his parents made routinely, morning and night, from his bedroom. He reopened his door and slammed it for dramatic emphasis of his late- I mean early arrival. The noises stopped for a split second, before continuing on like nothing had happened.

"Craig I'm sorry."  
"Don't be. I should be the one apologizing, you hearing them like this."  
"Not about that. About earlier, on the street." I reply  
"Oh." was all he said.  
"I hate my life." I said quietly.  
"Don't say that!" He replied.

I could go into my sob story in detail, but you've probably heard it before. So I'll spare you. The important part is that somewhere in the story I started crying again. He opened his arms wide, and embraced me. It wasn't the same as Tweek, though. Oh, him again…  
Eventually I stopped, and I collapsed into his bed, asleep for the first time in weeks.

I awoke to the sound of a shower. I like that word- awoke, it sounds fancy.  
Where am I, I thought, then quickly remembered the fiasco last night, or rather this morning. I am a complete freakazoid loserface moron, I think to myself, before laughing. The more words you combine and make-up, the funnier things become.  
I think Craig took off my shoes. What a truncated freakazoidal pyramid, Haha, that's geometry speaking. My laughable musings were cut short as Craig reentered the bedroom wearing a grand total of one thing, a towel.

"Uhm, If you want a shower I made sure not to use all the hot water and I don't know if you'd just want to wear that but I'm sure you'd fit into my clothes too and you could borrow something and gosh Kenny that jacket is really ratty do you want one of mine I mean that doesn't even fit you anymore how do you get it on not that you're fat or anything but you're too tall gosh you're skinny do you want pancakes?"  
Craig said all of this, and then took a deep breath.

"… Ok what?" I replied sleepily. 

"I said, uhm… I didn't use all the hot water if you wanted a shower, and you could borrow some clothes if you wanted too. And I'm sure I have a jacket you could have if you wanted. And I asked if you wanted pancakes, 'cause I could just make some while you were in the shower…" Craig clarified.  
I smiled. Wh-What is this... concern? Craig seems genuinely concerned for me… How completely out of character for him. Oh, hush now thoughts. Craig's just being a good f... f… fr… friend. Why was that hard to get out? Is Craig even one of my friends? Craig cut my musings short once more by coughing. Oh-right, there were a few questions in there.

"Uh, sure thing on the shower, I guess I could borrow some clothes if you really don't mind, you don't have to give up your jacket- that goes a bit beyond being a good host, and pancakes sound great- if you don't mind making them. At this point anything sounds great." There, I think I answered everything. I hope.

So there I was in the shower. Ohgod. Showers feel really good. Especially in this quiet, freezing, mountain town. I learned something in that shower. Craig's shampoo smells really good, and my hair loves it. My hair has never been so soft. All through the delicious breakfast of chocolate-chip pancakes I couldn't stop touching it and running my hand through it and pulling part of my bangs to my nose to smell it. And Craig couldn't stop staring at me. "What?" I asked. "Sorry." He mumbled back, before choosing to stare at the still-whole pancake he'd made but not eaten. He didn't seem to be too into the conversation, so I stopped.  
"… Are you ok?" I asked, putting on my best concern voice.

"I guess. I dunno. I'm just thinking." He replied. The conversation died out there, and I looked out the window. It was only 6:30am. School didn't start for two hours. After about ten minutes of absolute, creepy, silence- Not even a clock was ticking- I spoke up, which startled Craig. " Hey, you have your license, right?" I asked, putting on my best innocent voice. "Uh- yeah," he replied in what I assume was his best confused voice, "why?"  
"Because I am NOT walking to school today." I joked, smiling. 

"…" He said.


	4. School

The school building was cold

The school building was cold. It always is. Everything here was cold. I guess that having the new clothes, without rips in them, from Craig made it better, but the best thing was the jacket. It was a light grey little number, a cool ass print of blood splattering across the front. The inside was lined with fleece, and it was warm enough for three of me.

Sitting in "The Box", a little hallway where the four of us hang out, Cartman, Kyle, Stan and I, before school lends me some time alone, but nothing lasts forever. Soon the boy himself, Tweek, opens one of the doors and steps in. He's wearing a nice little jacket, totally black. He's ripped it all over though, and underneath I can see his black and white striped shirt, the long sleeves covering his hands. His jeans have rips too, and I can even see a little hint of plaid boxer shorts through one of the holes.

I don't even say hi, or anything, I pretend that I didn't hear him come in, that I'm deep in thought. Craig's iPod, which he let me borrow, is blasting something vaguely techno-ish into my head.

I look up in time to see his mouth move, he said 'hey'. I smile at him in reply and he sits down next to me, his arm wraps around me, he leans on me, he cuddles into me. I scoot away, and he falls to the ground. He yanks the headphones off and looks almost hurt. I apologize in my best concerned voice, and I look sad. Tweek buys it, and sits down next to me again, but this time he doesn't even touch me.

Now that the headphones aren't on my ears the entire room is filled with the pounding, rhythmic bass and electronic music pouring out of them. I realize that I hate that song, but let it play so I can't hear Tweek say he loves me. I look at him instead as if I can't hear him. He repeats it, louder, and once again I feign deafness. He gets fed up and just kisses me, but I don't even pretend to kiss back, I can't. I don't want this to be serious incase I end up leaving.

Too late I realize that hurting him slowly will last longer than all at once, and he gets up and stomps out of the room. Once he's gone I turn off the music, and sit in silence. It isn't long before I'm asleep again, and then it isn't long before I hear Cartman's whining voice telling me to get up because I'm in his spot. Douche bag…

All my classes are just blurs, I'm already failing and the semester is coming up, so why bother? I'd tell myself I'll improve next semester, but I don't want to lie. After school, I'm already half way home when I realize I still have Craig's iPod. Good thing he does basketball after school. I race back to the school, my smoker's lungs worn out, and collapse through the gym doors.

It takes about five minutes for Craig to notice me, and when he does he doesn't look very happy. He sinks a basket without much effort before calmly striding over to me. I know what's coming, Craig's a different person around the jocks, and I'll be lucky to get off with just a few insults.

"What the fuck are YOU doing here, faggot?"

His eyes say 'thank you' for bringing the iPod, but his mouth continues to verbally menstruate all over the gym.

"There's no room on the team for a little faggy slut like you, Kenny. You'd probably give us all AIDS just from being around us." Shouts one of his friends. I flip him off, and tell him to "suck it." Craig's eyes tell me to wait outside, so I do.

Half an hour later he comes around the corner, silly little boy, he went all the way around the school just to avoid being seen with me. Craig drives me to my house without a single word, and tells me to keep the jacket.

Inside my house I try to be as quiet as I can, because my dad's probably trying to sleep off a hangover. Halfway up the stairs I realize I never had a chance, because I hear "Where the FUCK were you last night?!" A second later I'm face-first on the floor and my nose is bleeding. "I was out getting stoned and giving ten dollar blow jobs!" I yell at him.

My father, being the man of class that he is, demands that I give him all the money I made, and when I say that I spent it all on my new clothes, he drags my up by my hair, before stripping me down and throwing my onto the floor again. Once thing I've learned, is that you wouldn't think a shirt and a jacket would really offer much protection, but one kick without them and you'll realize that you really want them back. Luckily I escape with only one broken rib, and surprisingly my nose isn't even broken this time.

_Lucky me. _I write.


	5. Ready or Not

The entire week is really a blur

The entire week is really a blur. No one asks about the bruises, not even Kyle or Stan. I wouldn't expect it from Cartman. I wasn't hiding them I swear.

The next Tuesday I hear Craig is having a party at his house from Friday to Saturday. Wednesday morning I receive a note stuffed into my locker.

_Ready or not, will you come?_

It simply said "Coming?" I recognized Craig's handwriting instantly. I ask Kyle if he's going during fourth period, right after lunch. He says no. I ask Stan during fifth period, and he says, "I'll think about it." This means no. I ask Cartman as a last-ditch effort on the bus after school. He tells me to shut up and get out of his seat.

Ready or

Thursday night, and I still haven't made up my mind. I'm sure his jock friends will be there, so he'll be an ass to me… but then why would he invite me? I'm hoping to avoid any moments reminiscent of 'Carrie'…

Not will you

I can't make up my mind… Ok, Kenny, just flip a coin. Heads you go, tails you stay home and do something else.

Throw, flip, flip, flip, flip, fall, flip, flip, land.

Look at it, Kenny.

Oh fate, you truly are a bitch.

Come?Readyornotwillyoucome?

Now it's Friday, and all week all I've seen of Tweek is the back of his head. Every time the kid saw me he turned and walked away… I really messed up. So I find him, and practically pin him against his locker. Across the metal surface someone has written "Faget". My first thought is, 'Wow these kids need to learn how to spell.' my second thought is, 'Whoever did that is going down.'

"Let me GO!" Tweek yells. Instantly all motion around us freezes and all ears listen. "No." I calmly reply, staring intently into his icy blue eyes. He's worn the exact same clothes all week, apart from his boxers- which are currently a light blue. I can smell his shampoo, which smells spectacularly like peaches, from where I'm standing. His eyes dart away, and tears start filling his eyes.

I pull him into a hug and some people start laughing. Then Tweek does something absolutely amazing and unthinkable and hot. He fucking screams at all the people around us.

"What the FUCK is wrong with you people?! Can't two people be in a FUCKING relationship and not have it be fucking FRONT PAGE NEWS?! WHAT ARE WE, CELEBRITIES? I MEAN JESUS!" As he continues to scream the crowd looks scared, and he's practically sobbing now. "YOU KNOW WHAT? FUCK YOU GUYS. IF ANYONE ELSE AT THIS SCHOOL HAD HALF THE BALLS WE DO EVERYONE WOULDN'T BE SO FUCKING BORING!"

Tweek I love you. "Like you!" he says, and points to a girl I know from English. Her name is Katy, and yeah, I hit that last year.

"YOU'RE SO PRETTY, BUT YOU WASTE IT. ALL THAT MAKEUP MAKES YOU LOOK LIKE A FUCKING WHORE. OR A CLOWN. OR A CLOWN HOOKER! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?! Are you blind?"

A jock steps forward, "hey, that's my girlfriend you faggot!"

"FUCK YOU! MAYBE YOU SHOULD ACCEPT YOUR GIRLFRIEND FOR WHO SHE IS AND NOT MAKE HER WEAR ALL THAT FUCKING MAKEUP? IN FACT, I DON'T THINK YOU EVEN _deserve_ TO HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!"

And then the jock punches Tweek in the face. And then Tweek does something even more amazing. He leaps at the guy, and is rapidly punching him in the face. Katy does nothing apart from look surprised, nor does anyone else. Except the principal, who grabs Tweek by his pretty blonde hair and drags him down the hallway. The whole way Tweek is shrieking "FUCK YOU ALL! FUCK YOU ALL!" Repeatedly.

All eyes turn to me, and I say, "God I love that kid."

Applause surrounds me as I walk to Chemistry. By the end of third period, everyone has heard about what happened. Tweek is famous around the school, and possibly the entire town. I bet his parents are fucking pissed.

Ally ally oxen-free

I've decided to go to Craig's party tonight. And so I do.


	6. El Dia de los Muertos

I arrive at Craig's house half an hour early, and the party is already well underway. I see three or four hulking forms, which I take to be jocks, sprawled out on his lawn, beer cans clenched in their large fists. I really don't want to be here, but I did flip a coin. I knock on the door, and then realize the music is WAY too loud for anyone to hear me. Then I realize there is a sign on the front door that says 'Go around back'. I don't trust this at all.

I reach into my coat pocket, the coat that Craig gave me, and finger the key I found there the first night, when my dad beat me up. I figured it was a car key and he had extras, and when I brought it up he shrugged. I take this as a welcome, and decide to try it on the front door.

It works.

I open the door and step in, and no one even seems to notice my break-in. In fact, there's no one there.

Go around back 

Duh. I remember the note and realize I'm not being set up after all. So I go through his house and walk out the back door.

This time, everyone stops and stares. I swear the music even skipped right then. Right in the center of the mass of people, I see him. No, not Craig. Tweek. After four and three-quarters seconds, everyone goes back to what they were doing, and yes I was counting. Everyone, that is, except him. Tweek. I blink sixteen times before he stops staring. And then he turns back to the guy he was talking to. I feel a hand on the small of my back, and jump a little, before Craig starts leading me through the people. We stop at the very back of his yard, right beside the large speakers that are pounding with music. My sternum is following the beat, or maybe that's my heart. Either way, I feel right at home in the ocean of pounding bass that the sea of booze I'm drifting in.

Craig says something, but I don't hear. Then he puts his hand on my cheek and turns my face to him so I can read his lips.

His lips say _Are you ok with him being here_ but I pretend he said _Hey Kenny I'm glad you came_. I smile, and he takes that as an answer to his question rather than an expression because of his statement. One rule I have, if you don't hear it, it can be whatever you want. Your eyes lie.

Craig turns my face again, even though I don't even remember when I stopped watching him. He mouths something else, but I don't get it. He sighs, and leads me inside.

The back door acts like a wall, and suddenly we're sitting in silence. My ears start ringing, and I almost panic. They always do that right before I die. Craig says something and the silence shatters. "I said I guess Tweek hasn't forgiven you, huh?"

I shrug.

"I would've thought with his performance on Friday he'd gotten over it, but he was totally ignoring you."

I shrug.

Craig steps closer, and puts his hand on my cheek again. This time he isn't turning my head, he's comforting me. His eyes look concerned, and concerned words are coming out of his face, but I don't know what to make of it.

Then, abruptly, his hand drops. The front door slams shut, and I hear drunken laughing rapidly approaching the kitchen, where we're standing. I guess the Super-mecha-Sportosaurus' woke up. They stop at the entrance and stare Craig and I up and down, not sure whether to laugh as if they saw the joke or keep walking in case there wasn't one.

Craig just turns and walks away, so they do too, but not before bumping into me.

I trip and fall, smacking my head on the kitchen table, and my ears start ringing again. I would swear I heard Stan and Kyle talking, but they weren't there.

I don't hear anything anymore.


	7. El Mañana

I vaguely remember an electric feeling and then I wake up in my bed

I vaguely remember an electric feeling and then I wake up in my bed. This is always where I come when I die, at exactly midnight I wake up in my bed, feeling like I've been rubbing my feet against shag carpet for too long and if I move or touch anything I'll get shocked. I wonder at first what happened to kill me, but then I remember. I certainly hope someone tripped over me, because I doubt anyone moved me or even paid me any attention. Oh no, who cares about Kenny when he dies, he'll just come back!

One day, when I don't come back, I hope I die with a bunch of people around, people who know me. I hope that they live for the rest of their lives knowing that if they hadn't have ignored me and just assumed I would come back then maybe the paramedics would have been able to bring me back. I hope they have nightmares.

I guess I'm going to miss the rest of Craig's party, big loss. But now that I've come back and I'm filled with electricity I can't fall back to sleep. It isn't until three that I finally get out of bed, and tactfully trip out my window. I get up out of the snow and run, because I see my parents' bedroom light turn on, and know if I get seen I'm in trouble. As long as I'm not in site, they probably won't even remember I left in the morning.

It isn't until four thirty that I realize that I've been standing outside of Kyle's house for a whole hour and fifteen minutes. I sneak around to the back, and pick some pebbles out of his yard, I gently throw them towards his window, and it only takes two before the light goes on and I see him silhouetted against the glass. I walk around front and it only takes about five seconds before the front door opens and Kyle drags me inside, pulling me up the stairs and throws me into his room.

It's so cute; his red hair is flung all over the place, even messier than his normal Jew-fro. His eyes are only half-opened and his cheeks are tinged a bit red from being smashed into the pillow. Then he speaks, and while it's hardly even a whisper, he might as well be screaming and punching me with every syllable. "**What** are you doing here at not even five in the morning?!" He stresses the what, as if I couldn't identify the fact it was a question without his aid.

"Sorry, I was at Craig's party and I guess I died because I woke up at exactly midnight like I always do when I die…" Kyle only sighs, "What do you want with me, then?"

I feel almost bad for waking him, but not quite. "I dunno. To be honest I stood outside your house for like, an hour before I even realized I was here. I guess I just automatically go to you when I need something." It's not a lie, I usually do go running to Kyle with a problem.

_Kyle always knows what to do. _I think, before smiling. "Why're you looking at me like that?" Kyle asks, looking me up and down. I realize I've probably been smiling goofily at him for a whole ten seconds and that's a bit much. "I was just… Kyle I was just thinking about how you're always there for Stan and I, and anyone else who needs your help. No matter what the problem is you always give your all into solving it and you never turn us away." I explain, then continue, "not even at five in the morning when you have to work the next day," I giggled.

Kyle only smiled a tired smile. Kyle's smile lately was always tired like that. It was like some tired old man gave Kyle his smile. Before I know what I'm doing I've stepped up to him, closing the gap. Only two inches of air separate us.

"Kenny, what ar-" Before he can finish the two inches rapidly decreases and I close my eyes as tight as I can, before I kiss him. Just one little quick peck. It's amazing what one little quick peck can do, isn't it? Thinking back, that was probably the worst decision I'd made all week.

Kyle's face was stone for a second, nothing being given away. Then it flashed through a lot of emotions, confusion, shock, nausea, anger, more confusion. When the roulette wheel stopped and picked one, it was this look of a confused sadness. Kyle always knew everything before anyone else. I think right at that moment he realized too many things at once.

Suddenly, he began violently vomiting on my jacket.

I rushed him into the bathroom, luckily just across the hall, after clamping my hand over his mouth. It hadn't noticed when I arrived, but Kyle wasn't looking too hot the whole time. As I rubbed his back he vomited, coughed, and cried his way through a full half hour of stomach emptying. After that point he didn't have anything else to loose, and dry gagged for another ten minutes. I guess along the way I'd started muttering little words to him, trying to comfort him. I don't know where that came from at all.

He looked at me, his eyes bloodshot and teary, his nose running, vomit lingering at the corners of his mouth. I almost wanted to cry. I held my arms open and he climbed into my lap, cuddling up to me as my arms almost protectively wrapped around him.

Kyle tried to say something, but the bathroom door flew open. Kyle's whole family stood there staring, well, Ike was also dancing around a bit.

"Oh my goodness Kyle!"

"Son, you OK?

"I have to PEE!"

"I knew something was wrong with my baby, I could feel it!"

"Moooooove I have to pee so BAD!!"

Through out this whole chain of words, passing from Kyle's mom to his dad to Ike, back to his mom and to Ike, no one seemed to notice that Kyle was cuddling me. In fact, no one even seemed to notice I was there at all.

That is, until Sheila kind coughed a little, and I noticed her staring at us, or really, me. Our eyes met, and she looked kind of confused, but mostly concerned for her baby. Kyle tried to say something, but only started in another coughing fit. He leaned close to me when he was done choking on his words, and whispered in my ear.

"He-uh... He says he's ok, just not feeling well."

How ridiculous of him to say. He just threw up until there was nothing left and for ten more minutes after. He can't even speak above a whisper, of course there's something terribly wrong!

Kyle's breath smelled like vomit, but I could still smell the mint from when he'd brushed his teeth. Kyle's breath always smelled like mint.

I don't know why I'm talking about his breath. Anyway, then Sheila looked at me and said- no joke- "Kyle is very sick, you should leave… uh… uh… you."

Not shitting you, she didn't know my name. So I try to get up, but Kyle keeps clinging tighter and tighter to me. He won't let go.

Then Kyle turns to his mom, his green eyes more angry than sick, and he said in a voice that sounded like his throat had been cut open a few times by him swallowing a mixture of sandpaper, salt, lemon juice, and glass, "His name is Kenny you stupid bitch."

I carried Kyle all the way back to my house, leaving a shrieking mother behind.

We slept, still cuddled together, in my bed that night, and Kyle would end up staying at my house for a week until his mom called his cell phone and threatened to call the police and say he ran away.

I hear Kyle was grounded for exactly twenty years.

He's still my hero.


End file.
